


Hemlock Hills

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Hemlock Grove Spoilers, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Listen, we’ll make a deal. Give me thirty minutes. If we’re not having a good time by then I’ll leave and I won’t bother you again, I promise."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hemlock Hills

Stiles walked up to the apartment door and checked his phone again to make sure he was at the right number. This building seemed a lot nicer than where he usually came across any of the Hales. He’d pictured a more run-down shit hole, with naked, flickering light bulbs and rats scurrying around in the hallway. He had certainly expected Derek to have meth-head neighbors. But this place was really nice, like, _really_ nice. It was clean and well lit and he hadn’t seen any speed freaks yet. But a boy could always hope. 

Stiles took a deep breath, preparing himself. He allowed himself a little self-talk moment, psyching himself up for this. Sure, Derek and he didn’t really _do_ stuff together, like hang out or talk or interact when their lives didn’t depend on it, but, by God, he was going to do this. He _needed_ to do this. Derek owed him a talk and he was collecting like the tough, assertive werewolf-whisperer who wasn’t running away from his problems he was. 

Of course, the moment he raised his fist to knock, the door was wrenched open. Derek Hale stood there, looking pissed. Which totally didn’t phase Stiles at all in any way, shape, or form. 

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, having practiced everything he wanted to say in the car ride over here ( _Hey, Derek, how are you? Nice place. When did you move in? Listen, buddy, we need to have a talk..._ ) but Derek, the bastard, beat him to it.

“What are you doing here?” Derek stepped out of his apartment and shut the door behind him. Stiles was overwhelmed by the gesture’s lack of subtlety.

“Hey, Derek, how are you?” Stiles asked, his voice perfectly light and amiable.

“How did you find me?” 

Stiles blinked. “Wow. Way to make this seem creepy. Scott told me you got an apartment. Which, he also mentioned, you moved into about a month ago. Why does no one tell me about things like this?”

“Maybe because you don’t need to know them.” Derek grit out.

“Okay, Mr. Sass-Pants, I did not come here to be insulted.” 

“Really? Why _did_ you come here then?” 

“Oh,” Stiles sighed, shrugging, “You know, Scott and everyone are out of town on college visits or whatever so I thought you and I could hang out, see how things are going, stitch and bitch. The works.” After hesitating, he added, “Maybe we could talk. About the thing.”

Derek studied him for a long moment then shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want company. Go home.” He then turned and moved to step back into his apartment.

“Dude, no, hold on.” Stiles reached out and grabbed Derek’s arm, which was apparently a big mistake, because Derek growled at him. Actually _growled_ at him. Stiles carefully pulled his hand back. “Sorry about that. Look. Can I come in?”

“No.”

“ _Please?_ ”

Derek didn’t respond this time. Just gave him one last glare before retreating into his apartment with a slam of his door.

Stiles entreated, quietly, “Derek, open the door.” There was no response, so he raised his voice. “You know I could just wait here. I have nothing to do today.” Raising his voice again, he added, “And I can have this talk I want to have with you right here in the hallway and all of your neighbors can hear about it. You know, if you don’t want to hang out.” 

Sighing at the lack of response, Stiles murmured, “You force my hand,” before shouting, “Look, I know you thought we were going to die - I mean, hell, I thought we were goners too - and so afterwards we both had this whole adrenaline high thing going and, I get it, I’m irresistible, but-” It was at this point that Derek threw the door open, reached out, and forcibly pulled Stiles in. He found himself pressed firmly against the door.

“Stiles, what the hell do you want?”

“To hang out? There’s nothing to do. And,” he squirmed, trying to get a little space between them, “I was getting to the topic I wanted to discuss.”

“Well, I don’t want to discuss that. There’s nothing to discuss. It was a mistake. We agreed on that.” Derek stepped back and let the boy go.

“No,” Stiles stated, “You said it was a mistake and then ran off.”

“We’re not discussing it.”

“Fine, we won’t. What do you want to talk about, then?” Stiles invited himself into Derek’s apartment and looked around. “Jeez, man, you have got to think about decorating this place. _So_ drab.” He ventured a look a the man, who was seething. He amended, “Or not. Now that I’m really looking at it, it’s very prison-cell chic. Got you’re whole ascetic thing going. I can see why you like it.” 

He flopped down on a couch that was obviously put there by someone with taste. Speaking of someone with taste; “You live with Peter?”

Derek nodded and watched him carefully, not having moved from his spot by the door.

“Where is he?” Stiles asked, still taking in Derek’s minimalist living quarters.

“Out.”

Stiles huffed, deeply put upon. “Gosh, you’re a well of information, aren’t you?”

“Stiles, why are you here?” That seemed to be the phrase of the day. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

“I told you - everyone’s out of town, except for you, so I thought we could do something. I don’t have anything to do today.” 

“Not my problem. Go somewhere else. I’m busy. Go talk to strangers on the Internet if you’re so lonely. I’m sure you can find someone to listen to you there ”

“Your concern for my well being is staggering, Derek. Truly. I’m blown over by your support.”

“You’re not my problem, Stiles.” Derek growled out, as if to a slow child. “I don’t have time for you. Go away.”

“Derek, baby, why you gotta be so cold?” Stiles asked, trying to sound flippant. He hadn’t really expected Derek to be nice to him, but this much adversity would give anyone pause. But, he was here on a mission. “I’m just being friendly. God knows everyone could use more friends.”

“I don’t need friends. I need my headache to stop.” 

Stiles scoffed. “Werewolves don’t get headaches.”

“They do. Mine is called Stiles.”

Stiles perked up and leaned over the arm of the couch. “See, Derek? See all this playful banter? Look at all this fun we’re having. And, you didn’t think we should hang out...” Stiles rolled his eyes at the still sulking man. 

Derek sighed. “Stiles,” he said, firmly, though his voice lacked anger. He just sounded tired at this point. “Please go home. I don’t want company right now.”

Stiles regarded him and stood up. After considering it for a few more seconds, he said, “Nah, I’m not buying it. And, I mean, who knows what I might do if left to my own devices? Or what I might say? To, for example, your uncle, should I see him while I’m out and about. Or, I don’t know, my father, the _sheriff_.”

Derek took a step towards the boy and snarled, “Are you threatening me?”

Stiles put his hands up. “Threatening you? I wouldn’t dream of it. I am asking you to reconsider, though. We could have fun.” 

“Fun.” Derek shakes his head. 

“Yeah, bro-fun. Or whatever. Listen, we’ll make a deal. Give me thirty minutes. If we’re not having a good time by then I’ll leave and I won’t bother you again, I promise. But, you have to try to have a good time - I mean, if that’s physically possible for you.”

Derek considered his proposal and then nodded once. “Fine. Deal.”

“Yes.” Stiles pumped a single triumphant fist into the air.

“But,” Derek cut in. “No talking about it. The thing.” 

“You got it. Won’t mention the thing.” Stiles promised, nodding like a bobble-head. “You won’t regret it,” he continued. “We’re gonna have a kick ass time.”

“Right.” Derek rolled his eyes, seemingly unamused.

It was at this point that Stiles remembered he knew basically nothing about Derek Hale and what he his interests were, if there were such things. This wasn’t really in his favor if he wanted them to be pals in thirty minutes. Along with this, Derek was remaining silent, making if very clear that Stiles would have to do all the work.

Desperately trying to find something to talk about, he blurted out: “So, you watching Hemlock Grove?”

“What.” Derek snapped. It didn’t really sound like a question. Stiles soldiered on regardless.

“I just ask because, you know, town with werewolves and all. Figured it fit us all pretty well. Yeah. We could be like... Becaon Grove,” he declared, then reconsidered, “Hemlock Hills. Oh, that’s much better. Hemlock Hills.”

Derek looked at him, seeming personally offended by this turn of the conversation, unable to form a response besides staring at him blankly.

“I’d say you’re a Peter because, you know, stubbley mysterious werewolf guy. I’m obviously Roman. We both have fantastic mouths.” Stiles smiled fully at Derek, displaying said mouth. Derek’s eyes did drift down to Stiles’s lips, studying them for a moment before licking his own subconsciously.

“So,” Stiles said, unable to keep himself from grinning as he talked, enjoying the attention, “I’m Roman. You’re Peter. Peter, our Peter,” Stiles clarified. “Can be Shelly, because they’re both abominations.”

“Shelly’s not an abomination.” Derek stated. “Just because she looks different...” The thought finished itself.

Stiles grinned. “So you are watching it!” 

Derek seemed almost embarrassed by this. He mumbled out, “Peter and Isaac both like it so they made me watch it. Shelley, who is _not_ an abomination, is the only decent character on that show.”

“I see you didn’t defend Peter like Shelley.”

Derek shrugged. “Peter is an abomination. No one’s arguing that, not even him.”

“So, he’s not Shelley... He’s Roman’s mom then and, ah, _dammit_ . Weird sexual tension between us.” Stiles made a grossed out face that he was pretty sure Derek almost laughed at. The man covered it up by scoffing.

“That’s really all that show is. They should just rename the show Weird, Mildly Homoerotic, Sexual Tension and be done with it.”

Stiles grinned like a dog. “It’s so great that _our_ lives are nothing like that.” and he laughed and he tried to keep the sound a lower rumble as he tossed his head back at an angle to show his neck off to Derek. Derek stared at that display of flesh and apparently did not find it amusing, refusing to speak. Stiles forced himself to sober and get back on track. There was a silence as Stiles scrambled for something else to say, which was a disconcerting feeling for someone who always had so much on their mind.

“I don’t really see you as the type to fuck your cousins as it is.” Derek said shrugging, pointedly not looking at the boy. Which, whoa, that was unexpected. Of all the things Stiles had expected the man to do or say, advancing the conversation all by himself was not really one of them.

Stiles looked grateful and even chuckled. “Shoot. I knew there’d be a hole in our plan. Now Hemlock Hills can never be. Double darn.”

Derek almost cracked a smile, looking back at him. “Sorry to ruin your fun.”

“Aw, you’re sweet.” Stiles wet his lips with a coy, little movement of his tongue. He leant forward ever so slightly in his seat and, as he did this, widened the space between his knees. Derek frowned.

“Stiles, _stop_ it.”

“Stop what?” he asked, trying to seem innocent, biting his lip and cocking his head to the side slightly.

“ _That_.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stiles shrugged.

“Just because we... did that, doesn’t mean you can pull this kind of shit with me.” Derek ground out, looking beyond pissed.

“Like I said, I don’t know what you’re referring to, and, if I did, I’m sure I wouldn’t be allowed to mention it.”

“Stiles, it was a mistake.” Derek said, sounding almost desperate to get the point across. “You’re ten years younger than me.”

“I’m sure - and once again this is completely hypothetical because I have no idea what we’re talking about - that if you really believed that it was a mistake, if you had no interest in me, you’d have no problem discussing it like adults.” Stiles leaned back in his seat and looked at Derek evenly, trying to convey how ridiculous and unnecessary he thought this all was.

“Whether or not I have any interest in you has no bearing on if that was a mistake, which it was.”

Stiles paused, thrown. “Are you...” He hesitated and then spoke again. “Are you trying to say you’re interested in me?”

Derek was silent for too long for the answer to be anything but yes. Stiles stood and stepped over to where Derek was leaning on the counter. The man promptly stood at full attention, seeming deeply uncomfortable with their proximity.

“You like me like that? It wasn’t just a fluke?” Stiles clarified. “You actually like me?” Derek said nothing and seemed to go into a silent defensive mode. Stiles placed a hand a hand on the man’s hip. Derek met his gaze and pushed Stiles’s hand away.

“You need to stop this.” His voice was thick and harsh. He was quiet, lacking power, and sounded close to wrecked.

“I don’t _need_ to do anything. I’m lonely. You’re lonely. You’re _always_ lonely. Why does it have to be like that?” Stiles spoke in a hushed tone, truly not understanding.

Derek sighed after a pause, saying, “Because that's how we become better people.” He looked at the wall to the side of them, trying to avoid Stiles’s eyes at all costs.

“I’m not so sure about that.” Stiles shrugged, shifting his weight. “Besides, I’m a pretty okay person as it is. I doubt a little diversion would completely ruin me. And you-”

“I’m not.” Derek cut in. “A good person.”

Stiles frowned, and reached out to lightly touch his arm. Derek didn’t shake him off. “But you are. You’re a great person. You’re one of my favorites. You’re the best person you can be. And all this brooding and denial isn’t going to make you better. It’s just going to make you sad. You should take what makes you happy, what you want. Especially someone in your position - all that high stress and dangerous living. So, what do you want?”

Derek hesitated a moment before saying. “You.”

“Then, _take_ me, Derek.”

“But-”

“No. I want to make you happy. Please.” Stiles punctuated the word by bring his hand up and placed it on Derek’s jaw. He brushed a kiss onto the man’s lips. It was barely a touch and Derek froze, unsure. 

After one more moment, Stiles brought his hand back down to his side and stepped back, ducking his head. He had lost. He figured it was time to step down with grace and head home.

Or he figured that until Derek reached forward, grabbing onto the boy and flipping their bodies so Stiles was pressed up against the counter. One hand held steady on Stiles’s neck and the other wrapped around his waist while Derek pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to the boy’s mouth.

The kiss was not deepened as Derek went straight from Stiles’s lips to his jaw and then neck, lavishing it with his lips and tongue and brief grazings of his teeth. Stiles found himself laughing at the suddenness of it all, but the sound was soft and more of a huff that bit off into a groan as Derek sucked his mark onto the boy's pulse point. 

Stiles threaded his fingers into Derek’s hair and let his head fall back a bit. Derek’s hand on his waist snaked back and down to grope his ass. Stiles made an embarrassing noise that almost sounded like whining as Derek rolled and rubbed his hips forward, pressing Stiles even farther into the counter. He could feel Derek, hard, pressing solid against him, rubbing against his own erection.

“Is this okay?” Derek asked, his breath hot against Stiles’s ear.

Stiles wanted to laugh hysterically at the question. “Yes. More than.”

“Are you sure - because we can stop.”

“Oh my God, no, don’t do that.” Stiles emphatically protested. “No, no, no, n- _ngh, yes._ ” He found himself moaning again as Derek cupped him through his jeans.

Derek grinned, then tried to stifle the expression. “You sure?” 

“You’re the worst.” Stiles groaned. Derek chuckled and pulled the boy’s shirt over his head, dumping it on the ground next to them. He did the same with his own, giving Stiles and eyeful of his impressive and totally unfair upper body.

“ _Sh-yit_.” Stiles murmured to himself, taking the man in as much as he could before Derek placed a hand on the side of his face and kissed him. This was more than the light play of lips before. Derek was opening his mouth up, cataloging every inch, kissing his thoughtfully. There was a certain reverence that made Stiles stop any sort of frantic movement and just _kiss_.

When Stiles pulled away to breathe, he asked, “Bed?”

Derek took him by the hand and led him to the next room. Opening the door and flicking the light on, he mumbled out a “Sorry for the mess,” which was ridiculous because Stiles really didn’t think he was going to be looking around the room that much.

The minute he was inside, Derek shut the door behind them, needing his privacy even in an empty house. Derek sat on the bed and looked at the boy, his nervousness seeming to resurface. Stiles made his way over to the bed as well and straddled the man.

“Hey,” he said, one hand coming to Derek’s jaw, his thumb brushing over his cheek. “Are you okay?”

Derek gave him one, stiff nod before kissing him again. 

“Wanna fuck me?” Stiles panted out as Derek broke away to bury his nose in the boy’s neck. He inhaled sharply.

“Yeah,” he sighed, not looking up.

Stiles moved off of Derek’s lap to undo and shed his jeans. His own cock was rock hard and leaking as Derek looked at it. Stiles tried not to feel self-conscious. After all, the look on Derek’s face was something much closer to hunger than disgust. 

“Done this with a boy before?” 

“No.” Derek seemed a little shy, which was painfully endearing. Stiles just wanted to pull him into his arms and kiss that pink flush spreading over his cheeks.

“Okay. I haven’t either. Just so you know.” and Stiles cut himself off for a second, trying to think of something actually helpful to say. “Don’t worry. I got this.” He paused before asking, “Though, I don’t suppose you have lube, do you?” Derek shook his head. “Okay, that’s fine.” And he brought his own fingers up to his mouth and began to suck intently. He raised his eyes to make contact with Derek’s, but the man was completely fixated on Stiles’s mouth. His own lips were parted slightly as he stared, absolutely enthralled, at Stiles’s mouth stretching open for his fingers.

Stiles sat back a little, spreading his legs. His wet fingers were brought down, and he trailed over his hole once or twice, his eyes not leaving Derek’s face. He was enraptured by the boy’s slightest movement. He began to nudge the tip of his forefinger in. As he did this, something seemed to spark in Derek and he crawled forward instantly, grabbing his wrist to stop.

“What-” was all Stiles managed to get out before Derek hoisted the boy’s hips up and back, exposing his hole to him. “ _Derek_.” He gasped out, “I was just-”

Stiles didn’t finish that thought because Derek brought his mouth down and licked a strip along his crack. The boy moaned as Derek repeated the motion and then pressed his tongue against his rim.

“Oh my God. You could have told me.” Stiles rushed out as Derek lapped at his entrance. “I was going to - _oh_.” Derek thrust his tongue in. Doing it several more times, he was rewarded with high pitched sounds of pleasure and an incessant string of profanity, when Stiles could bring himself to speak.

“Fuck, Derek. That feels so good. You’re making me so wet. How are you so good at this? Oh, don’t stop. Oh, Christ. Oh, fuck.” As Derek continued on, the words broke off into sobs and then one choked out, “I’m going to come.” Not stopping, Derek hummed out an acknowledgment and, just like that, Stiles was coming hard onto his own chest.

Derek lowered the boy’s hips down and let him breath for a second.

“Jesus, Derek, how’d you think to do that?”

“Instinct.” was Derek’s only reply as he leant forward to lick the come off of the boy’s chest.

“Fuck,” Stiles panted. “Instinct. Awesome. I like your instinct. You should trust yours. Like, always.”

After another breath, Stiles sat up, reaching out to fumble with the button of Derek’s jeans, saying, “Okay, now you.” Getting them unzipped, he wasted no time helping Derek out of them and then lowering his mouth to Derek’s cock. He licked one long line along the underside before taking all he could into his mouth and sucking hard. He tried to get it as wet as possible, and savor Derek’s little huffs of breath and the feel of his warm hand, heavy on the back of his head, before pulling off. Stiles own cock had begun to harden again and, as he got on all fours, facing away from Derek, he was fully erect.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Derek waiting back hesitating. He tried to wriggle his hips enticingly. “Come on, Derek. Don't you want me?” 

Derek moved forward a little, still seeming uncertain.

“Then, take me, Derek. Come on. Take me.” He rested his cheek on his own folded arms, crossed in front of him, and felt Derek grab onto his hips lightly. Something prodded at his entrance.

‘That’s right. Take-” Derek started to push in. Stiles had become pretty well acquainted with Derek’s dick in the minutes prior and knew he was by no means small. But, him pushing in like this, slow and carefully, stretching him apart bit by bit, took the breath out of Stiles. There was a slight ache, an over-extended feeling, but stronger than that was a feeling of being completely and totally filled.

Once Derek was all the way in, Stiles let out a shaky sigh. “Okay. You okay? You can move.”

Derek did begin to move, in a slow and constant rhythm. He seemed to be holding back, tense, as if worried he might hurt Stiles if he went any harder. So, Stiles tried to roll his hips back to meet him. The man grunted at that and then snapped his own hips forward, hitting into Stiles hard. They moaned together.

Derek reached around to stroke Stiles’s cock. His hand was too hot, too dry, but it wrapped around the boy’s erection regardless and made him moan helplessly into his arms.

“God, Derek, you’re so good, so _big_. You can’t even know how full I am right now. Want you to mark me. Paint me with yourself. I want everyone to know - to smell it on me - that I’m yours.”

Derek growled and hit into him harder and faster, his hand tightening around Stiles’s cock. The added pressure sent Stiles right over the edge with a cry. He clenched around Derek’s dick, who, with a few more furious slams of his hips, filled him quickly, coating the boy’s insides.

Derek slumped over the worn out boy, panting. He finally pulled out and rolled to his side. Stiles straightened out his legs and wriggled over to lie next to Derek’s side.

“You okay?” he asked, after a moment,

“Are you?” Derek threw back at him.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed, feeling a lot better than okay.

“Yeah.”

“But, I need a shower.” Stiles declared.

“Of course. Bathroom’s in through there.” Derek said, gesturing vaguely. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Stiles asked, “Do you want to take a shower with me?”

Derek regarded him for a moment, then smiled a little and said that nothing could make him happier. 

Stiles checked a clock and then looked back at Derek. "My thirty minutes is almost up. Are we having a good time yet?" Derek just rolled his eyes and herded him into the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's another stress-induced porn fic. I hope it's alright.


End file.
